A Christmas Wish
by bethalaina
Summary: Due to a curse during the final battle, Hermione is infertile. All she wants for Christmas is a child. Can Viktor fulfill her Christmas wish?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story was written and posted on LiveJournal back in 2008 as a Christmas gift for a very good friend, Czarownica_asia. It's about 9000 words and will be posted in seven parts, ending on Christmas day (because 1. I ran across it today, got the idea, and it works out perfectly and 2. I'm a tease). Disregard the canon epilogue, of course (I hate the epilogue and usually ignore it). The prompt Asia gave me for writing: Viktor will do anything for his wife, but all she wants is a baby. Something happened during the battle with Voldemort and she can't conceive. Viktor's determined to get her a baby and make her dreams come true, maybe from an orphanage because after the war a lot of children were left behind when their parents died.

Asia, if you're rereading this here, I love you and I'm so glad your wish came true! 3

Viktor stared down at the tray on the floor, directing all of his frustration directly at the untouched sandwich. He had just come from his last Quidditch practice until after the holidays; he wanted to spend a relaxing evening with his wife. But Hermione was still holed up in her study, where she'd been when he left the tray and knocked before he left. He had assumed she was working earlier—but if she hadn't come out at all, it must have something to do with babies.

He sighed and knocked again. "Hermy-own-ninny?

"What?" Her voice was soft and muffled. He thought she'd probably been crying.

"I am home."

"'K."

"Vill you come out?"

"Later."

Viktor thought of kicking the damned sandwich. What should a man do in a situation like this? With a flick of his wand, he sent the tray to the kitchen, and then Apparated to Honeydukes.

He browsed through the confections lost in thought, knowing that candy really was not the solution but not having a better answer. No one knew of any possible way to undo the _Glacialis Uterus_ spell—literally frozen womb. When Hermione had been struck with it during the final battle at Hogwarts, she hadn't thought much of it, she had told him. She'd seen no immediate effects and kept fighting. A few weeks later, though, she realized that her period had not arrived. At the time, it hadn't seemed like a big deal. Later, after she and Viktor were married, she had realized what she was missing.

And now, he thought, dropping raspberry-filled chocolates in his basket, it consumed her. True, she didn't often bring it up anymore, but Viktor would catch a certain look in her eye—a vortex of despair, wistfulness, and bitterness—and know what was on her mind.

Of course, being Hermione, she had researched a counterspell, a potion, anything to reverse it. She had found nothing. She had tried to develop her own countercharm, without any luck. Now she went through life, living day to day, fighting desperately to be happy with what she had. Viktor tried to support her in every way he could think of…but he was helpless in the face of her infertility.

It could be worse. Viktor selected a block of rich, creamy fudge—the best bet for luring Hermione out of her self-imposed prison—and thought of Luna and Neville Longbottom. Luna was pregnant, with a baby conceived in the aftermath of the final battle. She had been pregnant for seven years now, after being struck with _Glacialis Uterus_ around five months after the battle, by a handful of rogue Death Eaters that weren't pleased at being flushed out. Neville blamed himself for letting his wife come along on what was supposed to be a scouting mission. If anyone searched for a cure harder than Hermione, it was Neville. He went through his impressive greenhouse plant by plant, trying each property, often spending weeks on each one. For Hermione, the prospect of a child was frozen. For Neville and Luna, their daughter was frozen, waiting.

Viktor added a handful of sugar quills to his pile of goodies—Hermione especially liked the strawberry-flavored ones when she was working—and paid the shopkeeper. Snow was falling in fat, fluffy flakes, clinging to his cloak, when he left Hogsmeade.

The house was dark and quiet. Viktor lit a fire in the family room, and then dragged his overstuffed, worn-out leather armchair close. Good, nice and cozy. Honeydukes bag deposited on the coffee table, he returned to Hermione's study door. "Is later now, loff. You vill come out? I haff bring surprise for you."

Viktor smiled when the door opened a crack. He knew she could never resist his surprises. "What is it?" Hermione asked in a voice thick from weeping.

"Come and see." He reached for her hand and led her back to the family room. Her lips stretched into a small smile at the sight of the merrily-dancing fire—a smile that quickly turned into a grin when she saw the bag from the confectioner's.

"Oooh, did you bring me fudge?"

He would bring her all of the fudge in the world to see her smile. Hell, Viktor would kidnap Willy Wonka and take over his factory if it would make her happy—_really_ happy. "I did." He sank into the comforting depths of his chair, pulling Hermione and the Honeydukes bag into his lap. "Now, eat up and tell me vhy you hide in the study all day."

She sighed, then sniffled, and he kissed the dried tear-trails on her face. "I…well, I really should have discussed this with you before I did it, but I didn't really think, I just acted; I'm rather glad I did, but…"

"I vill not be angry. Vhat?" He straightened a fuzzy curl hanging beside her face, letting go to watch it spring back.

"I resigned."

Viktor balked momentarily, hopefully hiding it quickly enough she wouldn't notice. She had _resigned?_ Money wasn't a problem, of course—with his Quidditch career, they'd be fine if neither of them worked again—but what did she plan to do with her _mind?_ "Vhy? Is fine vith me, sveetheart. I just vonder?"

She poked a bit of the fudge into her mouth and squirmed a bit, nuzzling her cheek against his collarbone. She held up a piece for him and he bit into it, watching her gaze into the fire. "I was just…I was frustrated at the Ministry. The people from the Department of Mysteries…well, they look at me. I've heard that they're studying uses for the damn curse. _Uses_ for it! They'll be offering it at St. Mungo's as permanent birth control before we know it! And then…well, the secretaries had a baby shower today in the office. I tried to ignore them, but they were holding up little blankets and sleepers and shoes. I'm happy for the girl having the baby, but I'm still so _jealous!_ And then at the end of it, Romilda Vane announced that she's having a baby, too! Then they all turned around and stared at me, as if they were expecting me to go beserk, and then started whispering. And I've never liked Romilda Vane."

"I thought she vas dating Ron? I vould think you vould haff heard from him if they vere haffing a baby?" Viktor asked carefully, knowing this might be touchy. The idea of Ron Weasley with an unplanned pregnancy was pretty horrifying in itself.

"No, no, they broke up about six months ago. Honestly, Viktor, sometimes I think you pack up your memory with the Bludgers and Quaffle."

He tweaked the end of her nose and laughed. "Hey, look at you. You get the names of my balls right!"

He laughed even harder at the look she gave him: solemn at first, then a nibble on her lip, and then an all-out giggle. Viktor tickled her ribs until she kicked and squirmed, spilling caramels from her bag down his shirt. He stopped tormenting her to gather up the candy, but she caught his face with her hands, distracting him. She cradled his cheeks, caressed his jaw, smiled softly, and dusted featherlike kisses on his lips. "Thank you for this. For cheering me up, letting me complain about the secretaries."

Viktor's lips curved underneath her whispered words. "I loff you," he murmured. "Ve vill get through this, someday. Vill be ok."

"I know."

Hermione snuggled against him, and they gazed out the window as the fat flakes spun and danced in a glittering whirlwind against the window. A timid, fragile peace filled Viktor as he stroked his fingers along the fine hairs at Hermione's nape. This cozy feeling, this warm, sweet-scented woman, the softly rounded bottom snuggled against his trousers, the frizzy brown hair brushing his chin—it felt just like it used to, in the earlier days of their love, when he was enough for her. He had believed that, despite the curse, his love would be enough to sustain her, with or without children. Viktor would like a child or two, certainly, but he would be content with just Hermione, no matter what. He knew that she was trying to be happy with the way things were, but perhaps maternal longing is the sort of thing a man really doesn't understand. He could understand why Hermione would want to be a mum: she was so loving, so giving, and she threw herself wholeheartedly into everything she did. He had no doubt that someday, if the curse was lifted, he wouldn't be able to walk through the family room without tripping over stacks of books about pregnancy and parenting. And he wouldn't mind a bit, because Hermione's dream would be coming true.

Viktor just wished he could fix things for her.

But for tonight, he would try to embrace this moment, the flimsy comfort that could—and quite possibly would, with the mood she was in tonight—burst like a shimmering soap bubble.

He leaned his face close enough to brush the shell of Hermione's ear with his lips. "Is almost Christmas, loff. Ve shall go and get a tree tomorrow, yes?"

She sighed, and he wondered how a simple suggestion of a holiday tradition could hurt her. "I don't think I want to put one up this year, Viktor."

"Vhyeffer not? Ve alvays do."

"Just…I don't really want one. I don't want to see presents underneath, presents that are just _things_. All I want for Christmas is a child, Viktor. Can you give me that? Can you wrap a little girl or boy up for me and place him or her under the tree? I don't really care how it gets there; perhaps I should ask St. Nick."

Viktor choked back the sigh that tried to escape. Of course he couldn't wrap up a child for her and put it under the tree. "Vhat about the presents for Crookshanks? And for the family?"

A tear squeezed out of her eye and slowly worked its way down her cheek. Viktor tried to catch it to wipe it away, but Hermione pushed his hand away. "Maybe we could get one of those little plastic ones and stick on the coffee table. And you always complain about me buying presents for Crookshanks anyway."

"I see a catnip mouse that runs and squeaks until it is caught yesterday vhen I go to buy the cat food and owl treats. Perhaps he vould like that." Viktor was stabbing in the dark, trying to take her mind off of babies. Except now, they were on his mind. Her words kept repeating in his mind, over and over, even long after she'd fallen asleep on his lap and the fire was nothing but red coals.

_All I want for Christmas is a child. Can you give me that? Can you wrap a little girl or boy up for me and place him or her under the tree? I don't really care how it gets there; perhaps I should ask St. Nick._

A child.

Before he fell asleep, Viktor had made an important decision. And perhaps he should discuss it with Hermione before he did it, but he wouldn't. He knew her well enough to know what she would think.

First thing in the morning, they were getting a Christmas tree, a big, live tree, and covering it with fairy lights, and popcorn strings and glittering glass balls.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione astounded her husband the next morning by not protesting. Perhaps the candy and the cuddles the previous night had warmed her mood more than Viktor thought. Or maybe she was just humoring him. As they tromped through the snowflakes, talking and laughing, he didn't really care which reason she had for bundling up and looking for a tree with him. Her cheeks were red from the cold, her eyes were flashing with laughter, and Viktor felt like she was enjoying herself. He dropped the rope on the sled and grabbed both of her mittened hands in his gloved ones, tugging her close to him. His cold mouth found hers, and he released her hands to wrap her body in his arms instead. Viktor couldn't feel her body through their bulky coats and sweaters, but he could taste the sweetness of her tongue and feel the warm steam of her breath on his face, feel her eagerly returning his kiss. When he broke away to breath, he cupped her cheek with his glove, and she turned her face into it, inhaling the scent of the leather. "What was that for?" she asked, breathlessly.

"Just for because you are beautiful," he answered.

Later that night, Hermione sat in the armchair stringing popcorn while Viktor prodded the tree with his wand, trying to nudge the fairies back to the branches he wanted them on. They wanted to visit with one another instead of twinkling like they were supposed to. As he was wracking his mind for an appropriate jinx for the dratted things, Hermione interrupted his thoughts.

"You know, Viktor, sometimes I wish I had just been a Muggle." Her voice was not sad; it was thoughtful. He did a Sticking Charm on a fairy, thoroughly pissing her off, and sat down next to Hermione.

"Vhy that is?"

"If I were a Muggle, at least I'd be able to _do_ something about my infertility. Chart temperatures or take pills or have surgery or something to fix it. Muggle reproductive systems don't just _freeze_."

"But some Muggles never can haff children. Like from…vhat it is? Cankers?" Viktor tried to remember Muggle things she talked about, but the Wizarding world had ways to cure so much of it that it was easy to disregard.

"I think you mean cancer. That's true, I suppose; some women do lose their fertility permanently for various reasons." Hermione sighed. "It just…seems easier. I wouldn't have gotten cursed if I'd never been a witch."

"You also vould not haff met me." Viktor swallowed back sadness, and asked, "Vould it be vorth to not be vith me to haff baby?" Then he thought better and quickly added, "No, loff, do not answer that. I do not vant to know. Is not a choice anyvay."

Hermione dropped her popcorn on the floor and moved to sit on his knee. She kissed him very gently. "No, Viktor, it wouldn't be worth giving you up, nor giving up everything else Wizarding. I was just…feeling sorry for myself, I suppose. Wishing things would be different. Don't think that my desire for a child makes you any less valuable to me."

"You push me avay, sometimes," Viktor said softly, trying to not sound accusing, but needing her to know that.

The sorrow in her brown eyes was deep. "I'm sorry. I don't do it on purpose. I just—"

"Get lost inside yourself?" He forced a smile, a sad smile. "I know, loff. I see. Perhaps it vill not last much longer."

"I saw Neville at the apothecary. He said he's expecting to move on to another plant later this week. He sounds so…hurt, like he's being eaten alive from inside."

"How Luna is?"

Hermione's eyes shone with pain for the friend she didn't quite understand. "He said she suggested that perhaps he should study radishes next. She heard that they have magical properties in addition to being a food."

Viktor wrinkled his brow. "They do?"

"Oh, no, of course not. But at least radishes do _exist_." Hermione sighed. "I feel so terrible for them both. They had already named the baby when she was frozen; did you know that?"

Yes, Viktor knew that. She'd told him numerous times. But he let her talk it out again, trying to be a good husband, listening until she noticed one of the damned fairies from the tree sitting in the popcorn bowl.

He watched her charming the fairies into place—she was far superior to him with charms—and thought about her Christmas present. "I need to leaf tomorrow morning for a quick trip before Christmas is here."

She turned to him, wand never wavering, with questions in her eyes. "Oh? I thought you were done for the holidays."

"Vell, I haff to go back to Bulgaria for a couple of days. Vill be back for Christmas, I promise." He grinned at her. "Now, come kiss me, and then jinx that little fucker who is back in the popcorn bowl."

She laughed and obliged. Life was good, very good, whether she knew it or not, he thought as he tasted the nectar of her lips and breathed in the scent of her hair.


	3. Chapter 3

Viktor leaned on the decrepit wooden fence, looking at the run-down, sprawling rock building that was the Bulgarian Wizarding orphanage. He was not in the habit of throwing around either his fame or gold for his benefit. Well, perhaps occasionally, for minor things, like better seats for Quidditch matches, but he had never used them for something like this before, something major. Although he didn't know anything about adoption laws, he was fairly certain you didn't just go into an orphanage, pick a child, and take them home with you, not without involving time and paperwork. They probably didn't let men come in and choose children without telling their wives, either. All of that, however, was exactly what Viktor intended to do. That's why he was in Bulgaria—his fame was a much, much bigger deal here than at home. His Galleons would work anywhere. And this place—if the crumbling rocks, rotting fence, and broken playground equipment was any indication—would be open to the gold he'd gotten out of Gringotts before he came.

Viktor sucked up the remaining doubts about his sanity, and thought of Hermione. She needed a child; he was her husband, and it was his duty to do anything in his power to make her happy. Walking into an orphanage and leaving with a child for his wife's Christmas present may not be in most men's power, but Viktor was fairly certain it would be within his.

He made his way up the path, careful not to trip over the buckled stones, and tapped on the door. His knock sounded hollow, echoing. He waited until a wizened old man with a bitter face opened the door a tiny amount. "May I help you?" his dry, croaking voice asked in Bulgarian.

"Yes. I'd like to adopt a child."

"Well, you'll have to go through the appropriate channels. Good day." The man shoved the door, but Viktor caught it with his scuffed boot (perhaps he ought to have shined the boots before coming to help play the part) and put his best rich-and-famous-Quidditch-player face on.

"Do you know who I am? I want a child, and I intend to get one, so you might as well let me in."

The man cackled. "And just who are you, boy?"

"Viktor Krum, from the Vratsa Vultures. I hold several world records. Perhaps you've heard of me?" Viktor heard several boyish gasps from behind the old man. Well, _someone_ had heard of him. "And I have gold."

At the mention of money, a glint entered the man's watery eyes. "Fine, fine. Come to my office." He pushed the door open wider, and shouted at the boys gathered around the door eagerly hoping to glimpse the Quidditch player. "Out of the way, you rascals! Back to the playroom with you!"

Viktor smiled at the boys, then hurried down the hall behind the old man. The office the man led him into was nicely furnished with a mahogany desk and leather chairs. Viktor would bet the kids didn't have such nice furnishings. He felt a sharp burst of pity for all of the children here, and wondered what Hermione would think if he brought home several dozen kids. Where on earth would that many children sleep? Perhaps they could convert the basement into a dormitory. No, Viktor was being ridiculous. He would contact his Bulgarian lawyer and set up a fund designated for the children here and have his lawyer make sure it was spent properly. He had a very good lawyer in this country.

"How much gold do you have, then, Mr. Krum?" The old man's greedy voice interrupted Viktor's planning. That voice made a black cloud of anger settle in Viktor's stomach, and he vowed to have his lawyer have him investigated at the same time he set up the fund.

Viktor made sure his haughty-rich-man face was still in place and thrust his hand into his pocket. When he pulled out a palm-sized bag of gold, the old man smirked. Viktor took the spell off and set the large bag on the man's desk. He doubted the man could lift it.

A gnarled hand untied the bag and dipped into the shining Galleons. "Real?" the man croaked. "All of it?" He pulled out his wand and cast several spells over it, then looked at Viktor in awe. "Follow me, Mr. Krum, out to the playroom. You may have your pick of any of the children. And please remember us in the future if you'd like another or two."

Viktor followed the man down the hall, tuning out his apologies for the state of the orphanage and excuses about how the Bulgarian Ministry didn't provide adequate funds. Viktor had seen his office furniture; he suspected he knew where the government funding went. The old man opened a door for him, and Viktor entered what he assumed was the playroom. A few broken toys were scattered around, and a lopsided bookshelf held some battered storybooks. Cushions were tossed around to substitute for furniture. Around three dozen children, clad in faded, threadbare clothing, were packed into the undersized room.

Most of them mobbed him. The boys who'd been at the door had obviously warned their peers that a celebrity was in the orphanage. The kids had found scraps of paper, which Viktor gladly signed for them. He answered questions about Quidditch and his career while the old man wandered around, scolding children and being generally unpleasant. Eventually, as kids are wont to do, the crowd around Viktor lost interest and returned to play and bickering.

He rose from his cushion and surveyed the room. How exactly did a man go about choosing a child for his wife for Christmas? He would like to have a child who viewed him as a father instead of bestowing hero worship upon him, Viktor realized suddenly. He gazed around the room, wondering what to do next.

Viktor met the eyes of a little girl across the room and knew he'd found her. Her wide, innocent eyes reminded him of Hermione's. Not the color—her eyes were hazel to Hermione's brown—but the intelligence and thoughtfulness he saw swirling within their depths. The girl was perhaps three years old, with dirty blonde hair hanging limply in her face. She wore a faded blue dress with a rip near the hem and one sock.

She watched him make his way through the children to approach the caretaker—if he could be called that—near her. A boy, a few years older, grabbed her arm. "Don't look at him, Katie!" he hissed. "I couldn't stand it if he took you!"

Katie's gaze abruptly transformed to fear as she gripped the boy—her brother, Viktor realized. His hair was darker than hers, a deep brown, and he was in need of a haircut, but he had the same hazel eyes, and his facial features were similar. He shot Viktor a dirty look, a look that said he would fight if Viktor tried to take his sister. Viktor smiled to himself: the boy obviously had spunk and grit. He fiercely squared his skinny shoulders and held tight to Katie.

Something warm and golden shot through Viktor's gut. He wanted the boy, too. He would take them both home to Hermione.

Two more thoughts penetrated the glow in Viktor's heart: the boy had spoken English to Katie, and neither of them had been in the group he'd signed autographs for.

That settled the question. He hadn't thought about a language barrier before, but Hermione's Bulgarian was weak, at best. Most of the Bulgarian words she knew were either swear words or sex words—the two instances he was most likely to lose his command of English. To Viktor, fate must have intervened for him to find English-speaking children, children who struck a chord within him, in a Bulgarian orphanage.

"Tell me about those two," he murmured to the old man.

The caretaker's eyes widened. "Oh, you don't want them, Mr. Krum. They…ah…they are not very intelligent. They don't even speak our language."

"My wife is British," Viktor answered coldly. What had your choice of language to do with intelligence? "We speak English at home."

"Well, they…um…" the old many spluttered. He dropped his voice, glancing around in hopes none of the children were listening. "Their names are Katherine and Lucas. We don't know anything about their parents. They came from a Muggle orphanage. They were on vacation with their family, from America I think; everyone else was killed in an accident with one of those awful automobiles. The Ministry alerted me to the boy showing signs of magic in the Muggle orphanage, so I went to get him. The girl screeched so loudly when I tried to take him that I had to bring her, too. She's shown no signs of magic. You don't want a Mudblood boy, do you? Or, worse, a _Muggle_ for a daughter?"

Viktor was furious with the man. He sucked in several deep breaths, and then calmly stated, "My wife is a Muggleborn. I am not interested in what sort of blood you believe runs through the children's veins, sir. I wanted to know their background, so thank you for that. Now, may I take them home?"

"Well, you only gave me gold for one child…"

Viktor shoved his hand into his pocket and dropped another small bag into the man's hand. "Go to your office to count it," he hissed, his composure dropping. "I am going to meet my children, and then I am taking them home with me."

The greedy old man, with one last glance at the furor in Viktor's obsidian eyes, scampered from the room, Galleon-bag in hand. All the children stared in surprise.

"I didn't know he could move that fast!" a small boy nearby chirruped. Laughter erupted, and Viktor's rage dissipated.

Viktor sank onto a cushion in front of Katherine and Lucas. "My name is Viktor Krum," he told him in English. "My wife and I would like some children to love. Would you like to come home with me?"

The boy gripped his sister even tighter. "Which one of us?" he asked roughly.

Viktor smiled. "Both of you."

Katherine's eyes widened. "Please, can we?" she whispered to her brother. "It would be so _nice_ to have a mama again."

"You _have_ a mama. She's just dead," he hissed back. "I guess we can come home with you, mister. But we have a mama and a daddy so don't expect us to call you that."

Viktor's heart grew soft around the edges. "Of course you do, Lucas. And you should neffer forget them. Vere my vife and I liff, children call their mothers 'mum' or 'mummy'. Perhaps you could call my vife this, to be different from your first mother? Ve vould very much like to be your second parents, if that is ok for you?"

"My name is _Luke_," the boy insisted. "And—"

Katie interrupted him. "I'm Katie and I'm four. What can I call you if I call your wife mummy? And why do you talk funny?"

Viktor grinned at them both. "Thank you for telling me, Luke; how old are you?"

"Six," he muttered sullenly.

"I suppose, Katie, you could call me Papa. That is what I called my father. And I talk funny because I used to liff here in Bulgaria. I spoke Bulgarian until I learned English. But some vords are still hard for me. Vant to know a secret?"

Katie's eyes were huge. "Yes!"

"I cannot say my vife's name properly." Viktor shook his head in mock sadness. "Is such a shame."

"What is Mummy's name?" Katie asked, clearly entranced.

"_Katie!_" Luke interrupted.

"Please, Luke? I want to." She looked up beseechingly at her big brother.

He sighed, looking from her to Viktor. "I guess we can. It's ok, Katie. But we can't forget Mama and Daddy, ok?"

"Ok, Luke!" Katie hugged him, and then Viktor was shocked to find her skinny little arms around his neck. "So what is Mummy's other name?"

"Vell…I say Hermy-own-ninny, but is not right. You can ask her vhen ve get home. Now, ve should go and pack your things."

"We don't have things," Luke told him. "Just what we're wearing."

Viktor realized that some shopping was necessary—neither child's clothing was adequate to go outside in, and Katie didn't even have shoes. They left, stopping at the small clothing shop in the village. Once he had them outfitted in proper clothes, Viktor Apparated all of them into Sofia.

"That was _nuts_, dude!" Luke exclaimed. "Can _I_ do that? Sometimes I can do funny things."

"You haff to haff a license," Viktor answered absently. He needed to feed the children, and he wanted to talk to his lawyer immediately about a fund for the kids in the orphanage.

"Can I do it, too?" Katie asked, excitedly. "Can girls do that?"

Her sweet little voice stopped Viktor in this tracks. _Could_ she do it? What would it be like for a Muggle girl to grow up in a Wizarding family? Well, like it was for Squibs, he guessed. Dammit, he didn't know any happy Squibs! How the hell did he answer her question?

"If I can, then you can, Katie. I'll teach you how someday," Luke promised her. Viktor wondered if Luke had ever seen Katie do anything magical. Of course, she said she was four, sometimes children that age didn't show it yet. Hermione said she'd been seven the first time she did anything magical.

Katie grinned up at both of them, and slipped her warm, sticky hands in each of theirs, and hopped along between them as Viktor looked for somewhere to feed them. Something about her…Viktor knew in his heart she was a witch. Hell, she was certainly bewitching _him._

They chatted while they ate. Luke fought hard to keep up his tough, sullen front, but food usually warms the heart of a growing boy, and Viktor could see Luke loosening up. Hermione would adore these children, Viktor thought. Hermione would love any child, but Viktor believed that these two were special. These two would fit perfectly into their family.

He gave them each a several Knuts to toss into the fountain in the foyer of the Wizarding bank as he made a large withdrawal, glad that he kept accounts in both countries. Both children sat quietly, Katie's feet swinging happily in her new pink trainers, while he spoke to his lawyer, leaving a large sum of money and a lot of instructions.

Outside the lawyer's building, Katie grasped his hand as they walked toward the Apparition point. "Is it almost time to go home now? I'm ready to meet my new mummy!" Despite her excitement, Viktor noticed her eyelids drooping, and he knew she'd yawned more than once in the office. He couldn't blame her for being tired; she'd had quite a day.

Luke's expression had darkened with the mention of mummies. "So, why didn't she come with you to get us anyway? Does she even want us?"

"Um…" Viktor paused. How much should he tell the children? "She vants to haff children more than anything in the vorld. She vas cursed, cannot haff babies, and she has been very sad. So for Christmas, I come to get a child to liff vith us, be ours. I saw you, both of you, back at the orphanage, and I vanted you both. I know she vill too. But you are a surprise. She did not know vhy I need to come to Bulgaria today."

"Will she love me?" Katie asked, in that clear, innocent voice. Her feet stumbled, and Viktor scooped her up in his arms.

"I think, Miss Katie, that efferyvone who effer meets you vill love you."

"The mean man didn't."

"There are people in the vorld, sveetheart, who cannot loff anyvone except their own self. I think he vas like that," Viktor explained carefully.

"But you and Mummy will love me?"

"Yes, Katie, I already loff you, and Luke too." And it was true; a single afternoon with these children, and his heart was no longer his.

Katie snuggled against his chest, and Viktor caught the needy, vulnerable look in Luke's eyes before the boy could lock his sullenness in place. Viktor ruffled his hair, and then lifted Luke with his other arm so he could Apparate them all home.


	4. Chapter 4

Viktor's stomach was a tight bundle of electrified nerves when his boots landed in the snow beside his front gate. Although he was confident that Hermione would love the kids, just going and getting them and bringing them home was admittedly a pretty big step. Maybe he should have talked to her about it first. She would be pretty shocked. He thought back to the Honeydukes fudge he'd brought her yesterday. She usually liked his surprises…this one was just a teensy bit bigger than most. Ok, fine, bigger than anything he'd ever done before.

The stone house, complete with snow on every possible surface, a sky of diamond stars, and smoke curling out of the chimney, looked like a scene from a Christmas picture book. The fairy lights twinkled through the picture window, and the fire danced and swirled in the fireplace, illuminating Hermione, who was snuggled in the armchair with a book on her lap and one of Molly Weasley's knitted blankets tucked around her. As they stood looking at the house, Crookshanks leaped onto the back of the chair and lay down, curling his tail around him.

Katie gasped, "We have a kitty?"

Luke asked, in a voice filled with longing, "Is that Mum? I mean, your wife? Does she like stories?"

Viktor answered each in turn. "Yes, Katie, the kitty is called Crookshanks. And yes, Luke, that's Mum. She loves stories and books. Do you like them?"

He nodded, eyes still on Hermione. "Nobody's read me a story since Mama died. I can read a little, but all the books at the orphanage didn't have real letters in them so I couldn't read those."

Viktor chuckled. "That kind of letters are Cyrillic. That is how they write in Bulgaria. I haff some books like that; if you like, someday I can teach you to read them. But for now, vould you like to inside and meet Mum and Crookshanks?"

The kids followed him to the door, Katie clinging to his hand, Luke trailing behind, pretending not to be eager. In just one afternoon, Viktor had Katie's trust. Her sweetness and innocence was beautiful and endearing. Luke would take a little longer to win over—but then, Luke was old enough to remember what he had lost. Viktor had learned this afternoon that Luke turned five right before they left for their vacation; the children had been in orphanages for over a year.

Viktor took a deep breath and pushed open the front door. "Hermy-own-ninny?" he called, stomping snow off his boots. "I haff bring you an early Christmas present."

"I'm in the family room," she called back. Katie shyly wrapped both arms around Viktor's leg; he untangled her and carried her to the family room, turning on the light.

Hermione gaped at Viktor and the children. "What's—"

"Hermy-own-ninny, I vould like for you to meet Katie and Luke. Kids, this is Mummy, and that is Crookshanks on the chair."

Hermione bit back whatever she had been planning to say, although she shot a questioning glance at Viktor. "It's very nice to meet you, Luke and Katie. I made some cookies this afternoon; would you like some?"

They all trailed after her to the kitchen. Luke sat at the table and quietly accepted the glass of milk and plate of cookies Hermione gave him, but Katie stood staring at Hermione with her fingers in her mouth. When another place was set, Hermione smiled at her. "Go on now, honey; have some cookies."

Instead of getting in the chair, Katie wrapped her arms around Hermione's legs. "Thank you for wanting to be my new mummy," she announced, turning her hopeful smile and big, bright eyes up.

Hermione stroked her hair. "You're very welcome. Now, eat your snack, and when you're finished you can come back to family room, ok?"

Luke nodded and Katie took her seat, and Hermione pulled Viktor into the hallway. "What on earth is going on?" she hissed.

"You say you vant a child for Christmas. You do not care vhere it come from. So I vent to Bulgaria to get a child from an orphanage. I see Katie, she make me think of you, in the eyes. And then Luke…I vanted them both, so I get them and bring them home."

"In one day? What about paperwork? What about…about…home visits and all that? What about _telling me we were adopting children?_" Her voice was shrill by the end of her questions, although she was talking quietly so Luke and Katie wouldn't hear her.

"That vhy I go to Bulgaria. More famous there. And…vell, I vant to surprise you. I know, is big surprise, but…are you angry vith me?" Viktor gave her his very best innocent eyes.

"I'm—" Hermione cut herself off, looking surprised suddenly. "No, actually, I'm not angry. Viktor, you got me _two children_ for Christmas? From a Bulgarian orphanage? How old are they? Does…does the boy speak English? Oh, tell me about them!" Her eyes were shining by now.

"They are brother and sister, Lucas and Katherine. They are Americans who vere on vacation, their parents killed, so yes, Luke speaks English too. He is six and Katie is four. They are Muggleborn. Actually," Viktor said, brow wrinkling, "Katie has not shown any magic yet. She may be a Muggle. But I thought that you vould be good mother for a Muggle girl or a vitch girl, either vay."

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him more deeply than he could remember being kissed in recent months. "_Thank you_," she whispered, her heart filling her voice.

"Papa?" a small voice asked, and Viktor looked down to find Katie and Luke coming out of the door. "Can I pet Crookshanks?"

"Yes, Katie, if he say it is ok," Viktor scooped her up and carried her to the family room.

"I have another mother," Luke announced to Hermione.

"Of course you do, Luke. Will you tell me about her?"

Luke's eyes popped wide; he hadn't been expecting this woman to ask about Mama. "Her name was Caroline, and she read stories to me. She was pretty, with yellow hair, like Katie's used to be. Her eyes were green and she smelled like flowers."

Hermione smiled. "She sounds lovely, Luke. Anytime you want to talk about her, or about your father, you are more than welcome to."

She held out a hand to Luke. Timidly, he took it, and let Hermione lead him to the family room.

The children were entranced by the grumpy old cat and the Christmas tree. Katie was trying to poke the fairies, who kept trying to get away, while Luke scratched Crookshanks behind the ears. Hermione sat beside Viktor.

"Where exactly were you planning on the kids sleeping? I guess they don't have any luggage, either?"

Viktor met her eyes sheepishly. "Uh…I did not think much past bringing them home. Ve haff the guest rooms. Giff Luke the green vone and Katie the purple vone. After Christmas ve can take them shopping for bedroom stuff. Maybe ve should buy some clothes sooner, though. Tomorrow ve go shop?"

"Christmas!" Hermione gasped. "Viktor, Christmas is two days away! We have to get presents tomorrow! We're due at Molly's with the family for Christmas Eve day."

Viktor realized that he really should have planned ahead for this. Maybe all that paperwork was in place for a reason; the thought of these children spending another minute in that deplorable orphanage, however, made him decide his spur-of-the-moment adoption was for the best. The way Katie's eyes were shining as she gently touched a shining Christmas tree ball was worth it. And Luke wasn't scowling; if anything, he was watching Hermione with something close to acceptance.

"Maybe…Can ve ask Ginny to babysit tomorrow? Merlin knows ve vatch Teddy and the twins often enough."

"I'll Floo her after I put the kids to bed. I should probably start on that now," Hermione realized. "I'll give them a couple of your t-shirts for nighties tonight. Katie," she called, "Would you like to haff a bubble bath? And I'll wash your hair with shampoo that smells pretty, too."

Katie eagerly flew up the stairs after Hermione. Luke came over to the sofa and sat a safe distance from Viktor—but it was a start. "She seems really nice. She asked about Mama." Luke paused a moment, watching the flames in the fireplace. "I think I might like to call her Mum, too, like Katie. And if Katie's going to call you Papa, I might as well do that too. I wouldn't want Katie to feel bad because I didn't."

"It is very good of you, son, to take such good care of your little sister. And to take care of her at the orphanage, too."

Luke sat up as tall as he could. "I never let that mean old man hit her! He tried, because we didn't talk the same way and he got mad and yelled, but I didn't let him hurt Katie! She's so little."

Viktor's heart battled in rage for the caretaker and pain for these—his—children. Luke's small, thin shoulders were squared, and he was trying to look tough and strong, but Viktor knew that an adult, even one as frail as that old man seemed, would hurt a child when he struck him. "No vone here vill hit her, or you either. You are a brave boy to protect her. If you are naughty you may get a spanking, but no vone vill hurt you. I promise you that, Luke."

Luke didn't say anything, but Viktor read his thoughts in his expression. He wanted to believe Viktor's words, to trust that this home could be his and Katie's safe haven, but the past year had hurt him. Viktor vowed to prove to Luke that they would be safe under his roof and in the shelter of his arms.


	5. Chapter 5

Viktor barely recognized the children they left at Harry and Ginny's house the next morning. Katie's hair was shining and golden, and bounced in waves to the middle of her back instead of hanging in dirty strands. Luke's was a rich brown, now that it was clean. And both children's skin looked much healthier without the grayish pallor of dirt. Viktor wished he had thought to bathe them when he first picked them up. Hermione seemed to be a natural mother—or else she had been reading parenting books in her study when she was hiding from the world.

Luke chattered happily with Teddy, Harry and Ginny's adopted son, and Katie dashed off with their three-year-old twin girls. Harry had popped over last night when Hermione Flooed to ask about babysitting, so he and Ginny already knew what had happened. Ginny promised to tell Molly, so everyone in the family and all of the old Order members would know by tonight.

"Perhaps you should telephone your parents tonight, loff," Viktor told Hermione as they walked down Diagon Alley. "Before we show up vith children on Christmas."

She sighed. "I know. But then I'll have to take them in for dental cleanings on the day after Christmas, and I'd rather let them enjoy their toys. If I wait till tomorrow Mum and Dad's secretary will have the day off and they won't be able to schedule the appointment." She was joking, though, judging by the big smile on her face. Her parents would be thrilled with grandchildren, although probably quite shocked by the haste with which they were acquired.

Viktor was trying to wedge a toy broomstick into the shopping cart when Luna Longbottom scampered up to Hermione and hugged her. He noticed Hermione's careful distance from her rounded stomach, the habit of years of hugging Luna. "Ginny Flooed last night and said you'd adopted two children! Congratulations!"

"Word does travel fast, doesn't it?" Hermione asked dryly. Luna didn't seem to notice.

"I do wish I had some Erumpet tail hairs to give you; they're supposed to be good luck when hung above a child's bed. We have one hanging over Selene's bed already, just waiting for her." Neville caught up to her then, a teddy bear in tow. Luna gestured to it. "We get her a new bear every Christmas, too. They're sitting in a row in the crib, so she'll know how much we loved her while we were waiting."

Viktor smiled awkwardly; what should a man say to that? Neville, too, offered his congratulations, and then the Longbottoms went on their way. "I think it's simply lovely, the way she keeps hoping. In a way, it would be nice to be as…"

"Simple?" Viktor offered, catching a Look from his wife.

"Open-minded, I guess. It would be nice to be able to believe in things as easily as Luna does. She really believes that Neville will find a cure."

"I belief he vill, too. If there is vone to be found. He is very determined father." Viktor frowned and went back to trying to wedge the broomstick into the full cart. "As I am, also."

Hermione laughed. "Just carry it! I think we've enough toys for Luke and Katie. We should get them some clothing next, I think."

"We should Apparate to Honeydukes before we go home, too," Viktor added.

Thank goodness Hermione could wrap packages with her wand. Otherwise, they'd be wrapping until after Christmas. The gifts were deposited at home, the clothing bags left sitting in the family room, and the children retrieved from the Potters'. As Viktor sat in his leather armchair, Hermione on his knee, watching Luke and Katie dig through their new clothes, he thought he'd never seen children so excited over _clothes_ before yesterday.

"Can I wear this tomorrow, Papa?" Katie asked, holding up a pink sweatshirt with a fuzzy white cat on it.

"Sure, sweet pea," he told her, and she giggled and returned to her bag, gasping over pink leather boots trimmed in white fur. He had noticed her little-girl sense of style when he bought her clothes yesterday in the village. Pink, pink, soft, fuzzy, and more pink.

"Thank you, Viktor," Hermione whispered, and brushed his cheek with her lips. As she turned away, Viktor noted that her eyes were filled with light. He had found a way—no, two ways—to push that darkness away.


	6. Chapter 6

Christmas Eve with the Weasleys went better than Viktor could have expected. No questions were asked, although he knew that Molly probably had a million to bombard Hermione with later. Katie found another little girl—Viktor thought she might belong to Bill and Fleur but he had a tendency to mix up all of the little redheads—wearing pink boots, and off they ran. Luke was cautious and polite until he found Teddy, who had brought a battered copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ to read aloud.

Molly had dug through the boxes in the attic until she found Weasley sweaters in sizes for both children, and Katie had fallen in love with her new Grandma Molly. After dinner and the gift exchange, Katie snuggled into Molly's chair. "Why do you all carry around these sticks, Grandma Molly?" she asked, pulling Molly's wand out of her apron pocket.

Before Molly could get it, Katie pointed it at the Christmas tree, and suddenly it was bright pink.

George let Ron out of the headlock, Fleur dropped her compact on the floor, and one of Harry's daughters slid off of Arthur-the-horsie's back.

"Katie!" Hermione gasped, picking her up. "You did magic!"

Katie nodded. "Like Luke does sometimes. I like pink. The tree is prettier this way."

No one bothered to turn the tree back to the proper color.

An immeasurable sense of pride filled Viktor. His little girl had turned the tree pink, her very first act of magic. "With skills like that," he bragged to Charlie, "she'll probably be the next Minister of Magic."

Everyone within hearing distance roared…but every father in the room clapped him on the back sometime before they went home.

Later that night, stockings hung and baths taken, Luke lay sprawled on the rug in front of the fireplace, while Hermione rocked Katie and hummed, often burying her nose in her hair to smell her little-girl scent. Viktor stretched out on the sofa, watching Luke slowly making his way through Teddy's book.

Luke sighed. "Some of these words are _really_ hard."

"I can read some of it to you tonight at bedtime if you'd like," Hermione offered.

Luke nodded absently, then asked, "Papa, do you know anything about Quidditch?"

Viktor stared at him. Luke had called him Papa, without the slightest bit of coercion, and he sounded innocent and sincere…and trusting. "I do, Luke."

"Papa is a professional Quidditch player. That's his job," Hermione added.

Luke popped straight up on the rug. "Cool!" he shouted. Drowsy Katie whimpered; Hermione shushed her. "So you can really _fly_ on a broom?" he asked Viktor.

"I can," Viktor smiled. "I can teach you, vhen you are a little bit older. But vhen the veather varms a bit, you can ride vith me, if you vould like."

"That's _so_ awesome," Luke answered, and Viktor realized he had just won points for being a Cool Dad. Now _that_ was pretty awesome.

Bit by bit, they would earn Luke's trust and love, with patience and time, stories and

broom rides, cookies and cuddles. Hermione and Viktor had plenty of love to offer.


	7. Chapter 7

"Wow! Look what Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny got me, Papa!" Luke exclaimed, waving a toy snitch that would fly low and slowly enough to be caught with Luke's little broom. He clambered onto Viktor's knee. "Can we get our brooms and practice with it as soon as we get home? Please, Papa?"

Viktor rubbed his palm over his son's back. "If is not dark or snowing, ve vill try, Luke." It had taken quite some time for Luke to be so open with the adults in his new life, but now it was Christmas Eve with the Weasleys again, and Luke was just as loving as the rest of the kids filling the room.

"Mummy, _please_ can't Crooksie have some kittens?" Katie asked, flipping wistfully through a picture book of purring cats from Uncle George, with her brand-new pink Weasley sweater on backwards. Although Crookshanks begrudgingly allowed Katie to dress him in her doll clothes, Viktor doubted he would appreciate her newest endeavor.

"Crookshanks is a boy, sweetie, so he can't," Hermione answered.

Luna sat down beside her; she and Neville had been invited for dinner this year, as well. "I have one more present for you, Hermione," she told her, with a huge grin.

"Where?" Hermione asked, confused. All of the gifts piled under and around the tree had been passed out and ripped open.

"Right here!" Luna grabbed Hermione's hand and pressed the palm to her stomach. Hermione jumped when something kicked her from _inside _the globe of Luna's belly.

"It was a Mandrake potion. Neville thought of it one night when we were talking about the basilisk, you know, from your second year?. He'll bring a decanter over for you day after tomorrow if you'd like." Luna's grin wilted a little. "I really thought the radishes would help but they didn't. I must have eaten a million of them and all they did was give me heartburn."

Hermione giggled and hugged her friend, not bothering to keep her body slightly away. Viktor realized that he hadn't seen her hug Luna in the cautious way she used to in quite some time.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Now all of your dreams, they can come true."

"No, Viktor," she answered with a smile, "all of my dreams came true a year ago, when you brought Katie and Luke through the door. Now all three of us will build on those dreams, as a family."

"Mummy?" Katie piped up. "If we feed Crooksie some radishes, do you think he could have some kitties? _Pink_ kitties?"

Viktor released Hermione mid-kiss and snorted with laughter, then scooped up both of his children for a family hug.

"Yuck, Papa!" Luke scolded. "_Don't _hug me. It's embarrassing! Uncle Harry doesn't hug Teddy!"

"He does so, I haff seen him," Viktor retorted, and squeezed his son tighter. "And I vill _neffer_ stop hugging you! Even vhen you are vorld-famous Seeker!"

Luke sighed, and Katie squealed from her mummy's kisses. Viktor knew now that it was Hermione's Christmas wish last year that had fulfilled both of their lives. He would never have suspected that what they were missing could be found in a worn-down Bulgarian orphanage, that true happiness was only one Christmas wish away.

He met Hermione's smile and mouthed the words _thank you_ to her. He was the luckiest man in the world: he had a wonderful wife, and two magnificent children. Could life get any better than this?

It could, Viktor realized a few moments later. Katie got her hands on Grandma Molly's wand again, and the tree turned pink…and the fairies turned into kittens.


End file.
